Margaret of Milton
by PemberleyFan
Summary: Margaret rejected Thornton's marriage proposal, but when an unexpected tragedy strikes she is forced to make decisions she never dreamed of. An alternate path to a HEA for our dear couple! This is the first five chapters; entire story was originally published here. Remainder of story removed per requirements.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

It was time. The minister was waiting for her at the front of the church. So was Mr. Thornton, her groom. Hannah Thornton, his mother, was there, along with Fanny, his sister. In a moment she would walk down the aisle, take Mr. Thornton's hand in hers, and promise to love, honor and obey him for as long as she lived. Nicholas Higgins was there, along with a few of the masters, but besides these few there were no other witnesses.

Margaret Hale looked down at her dress and drew in a deep breath for courage. It was white, the color currently favored by fashionable Londoners for a wedding dress, but it was edged with black to symbolize her mourning. Her father had only been dead for ten days. If only he had been here to help her make her decision! But it was really no decision at all; she had no choice but to marry Mr. Thornton. She had no relatives to open their homes and give her shelter. Her aunt and cousin were on the continent and were not coming home for years. Her brother Frederick was in exile in Cadiz, and her father's oldest friend, Mr. Bell, had given her no support. She could not live alone and still be considered a respectable woman.

The minister cleared his throat and looked at her meaningfully, a subtle nudge down the aisle. She took another deep breath, smoothed her skirts once, and moved forward, keeping her chin high. Even if this marriage was not her choice, even if her husband did not love her, she was marrying a good man, one who was noble and willing to fulfill a promise made to a friend. He would honor her as his wife. He would not deceive her, and she would do her best to make him happy.

Margaret moved steadily and purposefully down the aisle, feeling suddenly shy in the face of such a solemn ceremony. Mr. Thornton—she must remember to call him his given name, John, after this—was standing motionless as he watched her. His eyes were serious; his mouth had no expression. He might have been carved in stone except that as she came to his side, he reached out and took her hand in his. Margaret could feel his warmth and strength through her glove and for a moment she felt glad to stand so close to him. She looked up and offered him a small, shy smile. He nodded once, an acknowledgement, and faced forward, not looking at her once as he repeated his vows during the short ceremony.

And so they were married.


	2. Chapter 2

**As noted before (in the prologue), I will be posting approximately one chapter in this story every two weeks. I hope you will enjoy spending time with Margaret and Thornton and seeing how their romance goes in a very different direction than what we are used to seeing! Please leave lots of reviews—I love to hear the little ding on my phone, letting me know that someone else has left feedback!—Elaine Owen**

**Chapter One**

_To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:_

_A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;_

_A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;_

_A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;_

_A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;_

_A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;_

_A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;_

_A time to love . . . . _

Richard Hale, former rector of the Helstone church and now serving as a tutor in the northern town of Milton, read the familiar Bible passage and smiled wistfully.

Though he was no longer a minister of the Gospel the words still bestowed on him the comfort of their simple, direct truth. Hale made a point of reading from the Bible every day, followed by treatises from some of his favorite philosophers: Aristotle, Plato, Aquinas, Locke, and many others. The Bible nourished his soul and the philosophers nourished his mind. Both were as necessary to him as air, for Hale believed quite firmly that what built up one of these faculties would inevitably strengthen the other. To him there was no contradiction between divine revelation and the brightest, most inspired learning of men. He did his best to learn all he could of both.

It was a shame that more people in this busy manufacturing town of Milton did not give either their souls or their minds much attention. Most of them simply did not have the time.

There were two sorts of men living and working in Milton, Hale had decided after careful observation. Most of the men were ordinary workers, who spent long hours daily in one of the factories that dominated the principal town of the district. Life for these souls was a trial, an unceasing round of tedious hours spent behind one machine or another, working for a master. Their labor was mostly manual and was paid for by fixed hourly wages, wages that were usually enough to keep bread on the table and perhaps afford new clothes occasionally, but rarely more than that. They had no time for either spiritual or academic enlightenment.

The other sort of men, the masters, had enough leisure time for whatever they wished to pursue, but they lacked the desire. Rich in material goods and determined to make themselves even richer, they had no need nor hunger for anything else. Some of them had, indeed, acquired enough learning to add occasional comments on a subject in their club, or perhaps while drinking whiskey after dinner with other important men. They knew enough to nod sagely when Hale quoted Aristotle, "The whole is greater than the sum of its parts," but they could not explain what the axiom really meant. Nor did many of them appreciate the Biblical admonition, "The love of money is the fruit of all evil." No, in all this town, truly sympathetic minds were hard to find. And once found, it was painful to lose such fellowship.

John Thornton had been just such a man.

"Margaret," Hale said, setting aside his Bible for the moment to address his daughter. "I have what may seem to be an impertinent question. Feel free to leave it unanswered if you wish. But I wonder: do you have any reason to believe Mr. Thornton ever cared for you?"

Margaret Hale, folding table linens on the dining room table, started and nearly dropped the towel she was holding. The question was surprising and yet somehow expected. She should have known that sooner or later her father would begin to question why John Thornton, the mill master who had become one of her father's closest friends, was choosing to spend less and less time at the Hale family home.

Eventually Margaret managed to compose herself enough to nod briefly in response to her father's question. "Yes, father, I believe he did."

"Did he propose to you?" Mr. Hale asked, surprised.

Margaret hesitated, then nodded.

"And you refused him?" Mr. Hale felt his heart sink.

"I did not see how I could do otherwise. I am sorry, father. I ought to have told you."

"There is nothing to be sorry for, Margaret. I am sure you were honest with him, and that is what matters. I did wonder why he was not coming here for lessons on Greek philosophy as often as he used to. He always seems to have a reason not to come now." The old tutor turned to gaze out the window at nothing in particular.

"There was so much else going on, with mother's illness," Margaret began apologetically, but her father stopped her.

"No, no, you did nothing wrong. I should have realized . . . but I had no suspicion until Mr. Bell started asking questions about the two of you. I thought John was only here to study." He gave her a sad smile.

Margaret felt a surge of remorse. Her father had enjoyed discussing the ancient classics with the intelligent owner of Marlborough Mills. Mr. Hale continued. "If his presence makes you feel uncomfortable, Margaret, I will ask him to stay away. I can meet him somewhere else for our lessons."

Margaret shook her head. "No, father. You have so few friends in this town. I will manage."

"I hope you were kind in your refusal." It was more a statement than a question. "I would not want to see John hurt."

She folded a dish towel and smoothed it with her hand to avoid meeting her father's gaze. "I have done nothing that I would not do again, Father."

There was a long pause, during which time Richard gazed out the window again, his expression troubled. His fingertips beat a restless rhythm on the tabletop. At length he turned back to his daughter

"Hadn't you begun to think more kindly of Thornton, Margaret? I even thought, at one time, that you might be starting to have a favorable view of him."

"Mr. Thornton proposed some time ago," Margaret answered, "before mother- went away." Her voice broke for a moment and she paused to regain control. "Since then, my opinion of him has changed somewhat. I have come to value his friendship, especially since I know what that friendship means to you. But I do not love him in the way he loves me."

Her father's eyes softened. "So he told you that he loves you."

The memory flashed into Margaret's mind, as vividly as if Mr. Thornton were standing here before her now. "_You look as if you thought it tainted you to be loved by me. You cannot avoid it. Nay, I, if I would, cannot cleanse you from it. But I would not, if I could. I have never loved any woman before: my life has been too busy, my thoughts too much absorbed with other things. Now I love, and will love. But do not be afraid of too much expression on my part."_

Oh, yes, he had loved her once. She had heard love, passionate love, in the fervent words he had spoken the day he offered himself to her. She had sensed something of its depth in the tears in his eyes when he turned away after her rejection. But that love was gone now. Margaret knew he looked at her differently since seeing her on the train platform at Outwood Station that night.

"A man like John does not give his heart lightly, Margaret. If you could learn to care for him, he would be a most excellent husband for you. He has a clever mind and an upright character-"

"But I do not care for him, father, and so the rest does not matter." Margaret broke in hastily. "Even if I were to come to feel differently, it would make no difference. A woman can hardly go to a man and tell him that she has changed her mind, can she?" She smiled at her father playfully, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

"No, I suppose you are right," Mr. Hale said regretfully. "Still, I wish things had turned out differently for you, Margaret. What will happen to you when I am gone, if you have no husband to support you? What will you do? You would not want to live with Frederick in Spain, would you?"

Her father was speaking of her older brother, who had been involved in a mutiny at sea and was forced to flee England for Spain. He had recently married a Spanish girl, Dolores, and expressed a desire to renounce any tie between him and his native country. Margaret thought it unlikely they would ever see each other again.

"Nothing will happen to you, Father, for many years yet," she answered brightly. "And when it does, if I need to I can make my home with Aunt Shaw, or even Cousin Edith and her husband."

"Perhaps you might be willing to reconsider your answer to Mr. Thornton," her father began, but Margaret broke in hastily.

"I am not worried for the future, and you should not be either. Now, since I am finished with this laundry, let us go into your little room and read over some Plato together until dinner. We will let the future sort itself out."

Mr. Hale nodded at his daughter and agreed. Margaret gathered the linens in her arms and walked out of the room, putting a firm end to the conversation.


	3. Chapter 2b

_**Thank you for all your reviews and comments on the previous two installments! John and Margaret are an amazing couple, and it's so much fun to get to see their developing romance with all of you! I love hearing what you think of each character and your guesses about what will happen next. Please keep it coming! -Elaine**_

Chapter Two

Across town at approximately the same time, John Thornton, the stern and hardened master of Marlborough Mills, was unaware of eyes that rested on him.

Hannah Thornton, John's mother, had come to the mill that afternoon in order to bring her son something to eat. Thornton was so dedicated to his work that it was not unusual for him to work straight through the lunch hour without stopping, a habit Hannah found alarming, especially on days when he had not bothered with breakfast. So here she was, with her heavy basket on her arm. John would protest the interruption but she would insist. After that she might perhaps go 'round the floor of the factory and help her son by surveying the efforts of his laborers and resolving small matters that did not need his personal attention. But before she left John's office she was determined to tell John something she should have told him weeks ago. He would protest this as well but in the end her will would prevail. It always did.

As Hannah stood in the doorway of the mill office, watching, Thornton copied sums from one book of accounts into the pages of a larger ledger. This, she knew, was her son's way of tracking the finances of his business, recording all transactions twice and using the resulting sums to check for errors. It was an intelligent and thoroughly modern way to maintain financial records for a business enterprise, but it required concentration and careful attention to detail. She almost regretted interrupting him.

While Hannah watched, Thornton's brow furrowed and he drew a weary hand over his eyes, closing them briefly. He had been working without rest, she knew, since before sunrise. "John," she finally called, advancing into the room, "I have brought you your noon meal. Stop working for a few minutes and eat something.

Thornton looked up at his mother with an inscrutable expression. "I am not hungry."

"I insist that you eat. You had nothing for breakfast."

"I had to leave early so that I could supervise shipments going on the first train to Liverpool," Thornton countered, looking down at his books again. "I have no time to waste."

"What are you working on now?"

"I am reviewing the list of orders paid in the last two weeks and adding them to the sums in the general ledger. After that I will need to visit the bank to arrange a payment for the equipment we purchased last year."

"Will you be able to make the payment on time?" Money had been tight at Marlborough Mills ever since the strike that had ended late last summer. Thornton and the other masters of Milton had won the battle with their workers, but the cost to everyone had been immense.

He nodded tersely. "This month, yes. Next month we may not be so fortunate."

"Then you have done all you can for now. Put your books aside and eat. You cannot go without food for a month while you worry over something you cannot change."

Thornton heard the steel in his mother's voice and sighed, pushing the ledgers away from him. He knew she would not stop pressing her case until he gave in. And secretly he appreciated her fussing over him, in the same way a young boy complains at being told to stop playing but comes to the dinner table anyway.

Hannah sat heavily on the chair across from the massive desk as Thornton inspected the contents of the basket she handed over. She studied his face while he ate, wondering how to begin the conversation she knew he would find objectionable. It was probably best to start with something relatively simple and straightforward, nothing that would make him suspect her true motive for coming here today. "How is the mill doing, John?" she asked. "Have we recovered from the strike?"

"Yes- and no," he answered. "The mill is fully operational, as you know, with every loom in production. We have plenty of orders on hand. But some of our buyers have not been paying their bills on time, and the cost of cotton continues to rise. Our margins are thinner than ever before."

"You have a reserve of capital to see the business through hard times, do you not?" she probed. She was unaware of the specifics, but she knew the general outlines of how John had structured his business.

"The strike drew our reserves down considerably, and the rest of my capital is wrapped up in the new machinery. I was counting on maintaining a certain level of production in order to pay off the debt according to schedule, until the strike ruined that plan. But I think we have enough to see us through for now," Thornton answered. He hated giving Hannah any reason to worry. "We will get past this, Mother. All businesses go through their trying times. Now, tell me the real reason you came here today. I know you too well. You could have sent a servant with the food." He smiled mischievously at her, daring her to contradict him.

Hannah acknowledged the truth of the statement with a small huff. She should have known she could not fool her son. "Fanny and her Mr. Watson are engaged."

"Truly?" John raised an eyebrow as he looked at his mother, wondering why his mother had hesitated to share this with him.

"Fanny told me about it last night. No doubt Watson will speak to you later today for your consent. It is a good, sensible match, one that will do our family proud."

"Are you sure?"

"Watson is older than your sister but he is well established in life. He will be able to provide for her, and he seems to be genuinely fond of her. He will do very well for our Fanny."

Thornton considered this briefly. "How does Fanny feel about him?"

"She is pleased with herself at being able to secure such an eligible suitor."

"That does not answer my question. Is she attracted to Watson, or to his purse?"

Hannah stiffened, raising her chin imperceptibly. "Fanny has always known it is her responsibility to pair herself with someone who can add stability and security to the family." Hannah paused. "At least _she _is not averse to performing her duty for the Thornton name." She leveled a stern look at her son.

Thornton set down the teacup he was holding. "Mother!"

"John, it is time you followed your sister's example and found someone you can marry."

He sat up straight, looking at his mother incredulously. So _this_ was the reason for her visit today. "You said you were dreading the day that I marry and you have to give way to another woman!"

"I do dread that, in some ways," she admitted. "But I will not be selfish with you. I would rather see you settled with someone who makes you happy than spending your days pining away after someone not worthy of you, someone who cannot possibly begin to appreciate the man you are- that Hale girl!"

Thornton winced as the words hit home. His late hours in the office, his restless nights and uneasy days had not gone unnoticed. Hannah knew that he had not been able to get Margaret Hale out of his mind, even months after she rejected him. What was worse, she had broken their vow never to mention her name between them ever again. "I am not pining away for Miss Hale, mother!" he said tersely.

"You have not been yourself since the day she rejected you, and it is time you put her aside," Hannah continued, relentless. "You could have your pick of any girl in town. Amy Latimer, for instance. She seems amiable enough and she lights up whenever you are around. And her father is a banker. You could do much worse."

Thornton looked at his mother indignantly. "I will not marry a woman simply to bolster our family fortunes!"

"Of course not. But you are not getting any younger. You should do as Fanny has done. Find someone who is fond of you, someone suitable whom you can respect and admire in return. In time affection will surely grow."

Thornton's hands tightened as he unconsciously gripped the edge of the desk. A sharp, almost physical pain stabbed his heart as the image of Margaret's face, with its ethereal beauty, came unbidden to his mind. Affection? Respect? He felt so much more than that for her. He felt devotion, passion, and a desperate need to worship at her feet. He wanted to love her, to give her everything inside him and to see inside her heart as well. He had no interest in an affection that might grow over time, when love had already consumed his soul.

"Your sister will be married in six weeks. I want you to promise me that you will find someone to escort to her wedding, someone you could consider marrying when the time is right."

John kept his voice low, controlled. "I will make no such promise."

"Not even for my sake?" Hannah leaned forward in her chair. Disappointing his mother was one of John's deepest fears, and she was not averse to playing on that fear now. "It would relieve my mind to know that you are at least trying to move on. I want to see you happy. Will you not do this thing for me?"

Thornton closed his eyes, trying to block Margaret's face from his mind. His mother was relentless once her mind was made up. Better to let her think she had won a small victory than continue to battle with her. Besides, perhaps she was right. The best way to exorcise Margaret from his mind might be to fix his attentions on someone new. He let the corners of his mouth quirk up as opened his eyes and looked back at Hannah.

"Very well, Mother. As soon as my schedule permits I will call on Miss Latimer, and I will ask her if I may escort her to the wedding. In the meantime, I have work to do. Give Fanny my congratulations, and tell her not to bankrupt me at the draper's when she goes shopping for her wedding clothes!" Hannah nodded and gave a small, satisfied smile in return. She had won her point.

But a few minutes later, as Thornton watched his mother leave the room to go walk the factory floor, he clenched his fists tight in defiance. "When I marry," he whispered fiercely to himself, _"if_ I marry, it will be for love and nothing less!"


	4. Chapter 3

_**I am so grateful for all of your feedback and comments so far! You are a wonderful audience and it is a pleasure to write and share this story with you. Have a blessed holiday weekend wherever you are! -Elaine**_

A week later Thornton strode purposefully through the crowded streets of Milton as he made his way towards the post office. The weather was clear this morning but there had been several days of hard rain, so this was his first opportunity to get away from Marlboro Mills in some time. He moved swiftly past pedestrians on both sides of him, stepping mechanically around those who did not move as rapidly or smoothly as he. After mailing letters for his mother he would be off to meet Watson to discuss the marriage settlement for Fanny, and then he would need to meet with his banker. His eyes were fixed straight ahead and his mind was on the rising cost of cotton and the expenses of his sister's wedding, not on Margaret Hale or her father. Therefore he did not observe those two people on the opposite side of the street from him, ready to cross over to his side of the busy avenue.

Margaret and Richard Hale were picking their way through the Milton streets as best they could, considering Mr. Hale's age, the thick mud everywhere, and the many carriages passing by. Margaret chided herself for not stopping to put on her heavy outdoor boots, feeling the mud building up on the shoes she used for daily wear. It was difficult to find her own footing in the flimsy gear, let alone to support her father's less sure form. Still, her father had insisted on taking this outing with her when he knew she was going to mail a letter to Frederick. He could not bear to wait at home to see if there might be a letter already waiting for him from his beloved son, or perhaps a message from one of their other relatives.

Father and daughter clung together as an omnibus went by, its wheels splashing mud in all directions; then they made a dash for it across the street, Margaret supporting her father as much as possible. They stepped up from the street and onto one of the few sidewalks in town just in time to avoid another carriage that threatened to run them down. In their haste they nearly collided with a particularly tall, thin gentleman striding along in a black suit, looking neither to the left or the right.

* * *

When Thornton realized he had nearly run down some poor souls trying to escape the filth of the street he pulled up abruptly, ashamed of his own poor manners. He was about to apologize when he looked down at the two people he had jostled. Then recognition swept over him. His cheeks flushed with color as he took in Margaret and her father.

"John! What an unexpected pleasure, meeting you here!" Hale beamed up at his pupil with genuine good will, careless of the near collision.

"Mr. Hale, Miss Hale," Thornton replied, tipping his hat. "I beg your pardon. Good morning to you both." He gave Margaret as much of a nod as good manners required and then turned his attention entirely to her father. It was impossible to ignore Margaret when they were standing so close, but he would not give her the pleasure of seeing him discomfited by their unexpected meeting.

"We were just on our way to the post office," Hale said, delighted to see his student again. "Margaret has a letter to post and I insisted on accompanying her. The rain has kept us inside, you know."

"The post office is my destination as well," Thornton replied, keeping his eyes firmly on his former tutor. Margaret was standing quiet and watchful, her hands clasped together in front of her. Her expression was polite but distant. "After I mail these letters I have another errand."

"Perhaps you would agree to walk with us, so we can talk along the way?" Hale suggested. "You and I have not had a good visit in weeks."

"I would be my pleasure," Thornton answered automatically. Instantly he regretted his words. What was he thinking? He was trying to forget Margaret, not to be thrown into her company! His mother would never forgive him if she heard that he had spent any time in her presence. And news of this encounter _would _get back to her, since they were meeting in such a public place. There was no avoiding it. Still, his words could not be taken back unless he wanted to be thought excessively rude. He assumed his place next to Mr Hale. Margaret took her father's arm on the other side and the three began to walk together.

"Tell me how you have been since I last saw you," Mr. Hale urged the younger man, as Thornton slowed his steps to accommodate him. "How is your mother? Are she and your sister well?"

"They are very well, I thank you," Thornton answered. "My sister has recently become engaged to Mr. Watson, whom I believe you have met. Their wedding is set to take place next month."

"A wedding? Congratulations! What a happy event for your family!"

"Thank you. It is a prudent match on both sides, and my mother is well-pleased with the arrangement."

"Mr. Watson owns a mill on the other side of town, does he not?" Hale asked. Thornton answered in the affirmative and added a few details about Watson's business and fortune. At least he hoped that what was what he was doing. His mind was more fixed on tracking Margaret's dainty movements out of the corner of his eye than on the words coming out of his mouth.

"Please extend our best wishes to your mother and to the new couple," Hale continued earnestly. "May they have a long and happy marriage."

"We have every reason to believe they will." Thornton wondered what Margaret was thinking. Her calm exterior gave no hint of her thoughts.

If Margaret had accepted his proposal, they would probably have been man and wife by this time. Thornton would be proudly walking with her on his arm, accepting best wishes and congratulations from all he knew. Instead he was forced to sit by and see wishes for happiness go to a couple that had, a best, a tepid affection for one another. For a moment Thornton felt a deep resentment of his sister and her marital prospects. He had a wild desire to throw himself at Margaret's feet and beg her to change her mind. But he kept his face stern and impassive. Nobody watching him would have guessed the depth of the swirling emotions inside him.

* * *

Despite her calm appearance Margaret was deeply troubled by Thornton's presence. While she did not want his favor, neither did she want his censure for sins she had not committed.

After Thornton had proposed and she refused him, he had not, as Margaret half expected, immediately stopped all association with the Hale family. Quite the opposite, in fact; he had carefully ignored what had passed between himself and Margaret and continued his friendly relationship with her parents. Mrs. Hale had benefitted from the costly fruit Mr. Thornton continued to bring her all through her final illness. Thornton attended tutoring sessions with Mr. Hale nearly as often as before, and he maintained a façade of polite indifference towards Margaret. Only Margaret and Thornton knew the heated words that had passed between them.

Then Mrs. Hale, knowing her end was coming, begged Margaret to send for her son Frederick, even though Frederick would be in danger of hanging if he were ever discovered in England.

Frederick came, and it became Margaret's job to turn away all visitors to Crampton, the family home. It mattered not how close they were to the family; for Frederick's sake, everyone must be refused. They could not allow a soul to enter unless that person already knew Frederick's secret and was willing to protect him. Thornton had not understood the sudden cut, and Margaret knew that he was hurt and puzzled over being abruptly excluded from the family circle.

Then, just after Mrs. Hale died, Thornton saw Margaret and Frederick together at the Outwood train station. It was the night that Frederick was due to leave Milton and return to Spain, and it was well past the hour when any respectable woman would be out in company with an unrelated gentleman. Worse, Thornton spied Margaret and Frederick just as they were giving each other a final embrace. Margaret saw the disapproving scowl on Thornton's face before he turned and marched out of the station, and she was mortified by what he must be thinking.

To make matters worse, just after Thornton walked away, Fred was recognized by an old acquaintance, Leonards, as he stood on the train platform. Panic and a brief struggle ensued. The very next morning Leonards was found dead of a head injury.

Fred had nothing to do with the tragic event. He and Leonards had quarreled and then separated, and Fred immediately boarded the train and left the area. But Margaret, Frederick and Leonards had all been seen together during the quarrel, and an official inquiry was opened. As a magistrate Thornton was the one tasked with investigating the unexplained death. When he realized that Margaret was involved Thornton used his authority to declared the matter resolved. No charges were filed and the whole issue quietly disappeared.

Margaret's shame knew no bounds. Thornton had risked his own reputation in order to save hers, and now she owed him a debt that she had no way to pay.

Her emotions veered from one extreme to another as she walked silently alongside her father- gratitude towards Thornton, anger towards herself, and a deep sense of remorse swept over her in turn. She wished she could tell Thornton what had really happened that night on the train platform. She wished he knew that she had lied about her whereabouts that night only to save her brother. But Thornton was still a magistrate, still bound to uphold the law. She did not dare.

Margaret startled as her father's arm pulled her to an abrupt stop. "I say, Margaret, don't you agree?"

"I-" she gulped. She glanced up and noticed for the first time that they were nearly in front of the modern brick building that housed the post office. If her father had not intervened she might have gone walking right past it, she was so caught up in her thoughts. "I- am not certain," she finally floundered. She had no idea what the others were talking about, but she did not want to betray her distraction. "I have never given the matter much thought before."

"Not much thought?" Thornton repeated, looking directly at her for the first time since they started walking together. His eyes, bright and piercing, seemed to demand an explanation for her strange answer.

"Not much thought!" her father exclaimed. "Why, Margaret, of course you've thought about it! Our modern postal system is a wonder, a real modern-day miracle! It is astounding how quickly we can get a letter from one end of England to the other, and how little it costs! When I was a boy we had to pay to receive mail, not to send it, and sometimes it was quite costly! I remember one time, in fact, when my father had to refuse a letter he could not afford to accept. Paying to send instead of receive is a far more sensible arrangement."

"I cannot believe that you, Miss Hale, of all people, would not have given much thought to a convenience used so frequently," Thornton commented in his half-serious, half-mocking way.

"Yes, yes- of course," Margaret finally answered, aware that her cheeks were flushed. Her ruse had not worked. "Being able to receive letters from London and other places so swiftly is a blessing of the modern age. Forgive me, Mr. Thornton. I was not attending properly."

The corners of his mouth twisted up. "Another blessing of the modern age is having a post office close by, as long as one can find it easily. Here we are at our destination. I shall leave you now, Mr. Hale, Miss Hale," he said, touching his hat.

"Oh, please do not!" Hale stopped him. "I am not feeling at all myself after walking all this way. I really should get off my feet for a few minutes. Won't you take Margaret inside for me? I can wait for you right here."

Margaret looked at her father with concern. "Are you unwell, papa? Have you walked too far today?"

"I am well enough, my dear, I only want a minute or two to rest and catch my breath. I will sit here while you and John go inside. You can post your letter and check to see if there are any letters for us," he assured her.

Margaret's sharp eyes examined her father closely. She had not missed the fact that he was rather blatantly throwing her and Mr. Thornton into company together. She recalled the conversation between her and her father less than two weeks earlier. If she didn't know better, she would have suspected her father of outright matchmaking. How very unlike him! But at this particular moment he _was _out of breath, and the hand he used to help lower himself to the bench was shaking. "Perhaps we should take you to a doctor," she suggested, noting his ashy complexion.

"Nonsense! I will feel better in just a few minutes. Go in and mail your letter, then come back and get me. We should probably walk home a little more slowly than when we came here." He smiled at her encouragingly, if a bit weakly.

She looked towards Mr. Thornton, wondering if he would protest, but he had already opened the door of the building for her and stood next to it, looking at her with one eyebrow raised as if in challenge. She really had no choice but to do as her father said, so she went through the door.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The room was close and crowded, with little air moving. A dozen or more people, both men and women, stood queued in front of the only counter, where a single clerk struggled to serve each customer as quickly as possible. Little murmurs of conversation could be heard throughout the room as people shifted restlessly from foot to foot and shuffled slowly forward. Margaret sighed as she realized that she would have to wait a number of minutes before she could be served- and that she would be with Thornton the whole time.

"It was generous of you to agree to accompany me, even though your assistance is not needed," Margaret informed her companion, moving in front of him as they took their places in line. Ignoring Thornton altogether would be unforgivably ill-mannered. "I am entirely capable of fending for myself inside a post office."

"I am well aware of your capabilities. You never need my assistance." A heavyset woman standing in line in front of Margaret stepped back abruptly just then, jostling Margaret, and Thornton courteously reached out his arm to shield her. He waited until the woman had stepped back into her place before speaking again. "But I did not wish to argue with your father. He seemed excessively fatigued. The sooner you can get through your business here, the sooner you can return to his side."

"Thank you. I am grateful for your thoughtfulness." Margaret looked away again and tried not to think about the man standing directly behind her. She hoped the line would move faster than she had reason to hope at this moment. She could smell Thornton's cologne, rich and warm, and feel his looming presence at her back, nearly close enough to touch. She did not want to think about the way she had thrown her arms around him to protect him from the striking workers, or the way he had carried her into the house in his arms, shielding her from the wrath of the crowd. Such intimate gestures between two people who hardly knew each other! But she would not allow her mind to dwell on those things.

The silence lasted for a minute or two until Thornton spoke again. This time his voice was gentle and deep.

"I never had a chance to properly express my condolences on the death of your mother."

"Mr. Thornton! That was months ago!" The line moved a slow half step forward and she moved with it before she turned to face him. "You and your mother were both very kind to us at that time. My father and I appreciated the card you sent, as well as your presence at the services."

So she had noticed him at the church that bleak day! Thornton felt a surge of pride. Hannah had stayed home, in accordance with the custom that generally kept women away from funerals, but Thornton had been present for every minutes of the services. And Margaret said that _they _had appreciated his presence!

"I should have done more," he countered, watching her face. "With as much as your father's friendship means to me, I should have supported your family more during the funeral and afterwards."

"You did all that you could," Margaret insisted. "You came to the funeral, and I know you would have come to the house if . . . if . . . circumstances had been different," she finished rather uncomfortably. "I am sorry that I had to turn you away when you tried to call. Please allow me to repeat what I said previously, that although you are always welcome in our home, there were reasons why we could not admit you to the house during my mother's last few days."

Finally, they were going to talk about that awful day when Margaret had turned him away from the house. He had longed to ask her about it and now here she was, unable to escape his questioning.

" 'Things are not as they seem,'" Thornton said, quoting what Margaret had told him at the time. "I have given those words a great deal of thought, but I am no closer to understanding them now than I was then."

Margaret looked away uneasily, unwilling to meet Thornton's eyes. Thornton continued. "You said I was most welcome, but you still turned me away."

"We were not at home to any callers. Mother was very ill."

"But there _was_ a visitor in your home that day," Thornton said gravely. "Please do not try to deny it. I saw his umbrella in the entryway, and his laughter rang out into the street, down from the second-floor window. Did you think I could not hear it?"

"I am not a simpleton, Mr. Thornton." Margaret's eyes blazed up into his, and he was startled at the way her sudden passion made her whole face come more alive. Her nostrils flared and pink swept in to her cheeks, reminding him that no other woman he knew could match her fierce spirit. "I knew you saw the umbrella and heard the laughter coming from- that other person, but I was being truthful. We could not admit you at the time!"

Thornton's lips twisted as he looked down at her. "You were being truthful- _at the time_."

He expected her temper to flare even more at these words, but to his surprise she looked down again. She drew a long breath while Thornton watched, wondering what she was thinking.

Margaret flinched inwardly at his reminder of her deception. When the police had started their inquiry into Leonard's death, she had been forced to dissemble about her presence at the Outwood station that night. There was no way she could admit to being on the train platform without mentioning her brother's name and raising more questions. As a result Thornton had discovered her deception, and her character now suffered in his eyes.

Perhaps she should be grateful to her father for throwing her into Thornton's company in this way. This was her opportunity to set things right and to thank him for protecting her. She could not tell Thornton why she had done as she had, of course, but she might be able to give him enough information to make him think a little better of her.

There was a little pause while the queue in front of the counter moved forward again, taking Margaret and Thornton with it. It was only after they had moved a half foot or so that Margaret dared to face him again. This time her voice was low and humble. "Mr. Thornton, I am grateful for the way you protected my reputation during the inquest. I know what you must believe of me. However, I wish you would not jump to conclusions. I must ask you not to judge on appearances."

Thornton frowned, but Margaret continued speaking. "I am guilty of deceit but nothing more. I have done nothing I am ashamed of, and nothing I would not do again."

Thornton's anger rose. "I thought you had better character than that," he said fiercely. "I would never have expected to hear a lie from you, of all people!"

His voice had risen along with his intensity, and his words carried farther than he intended. The heavyset woman who had nearly knocked Margaret down earlier turned around to look askance between her and Thornton. When neither Margaret nor Thornton answered her unspoken questions, she shook her head doubtfully and turned to face the front once more.

Thornton waited until she faced completely forward before speaking again, keeping his voice more controlled this time. "I do not understand how you can admit to behavior that endangered your reputation and yet insist that you did no wrong."

"If you knew the circumstances I do not believe you would condemn me." Margaret lifted her chin stubbornly.

"I wish I knew the circumstances. I wish you could bring yourself to confide them to me."

"I cannot do that without betraying another person's secret!"

"Does this other person's secret mean that much to you? Is another man worth the sacrifice of your character?"

Margaret lifted her beautiful, reproachful eyes to his, but she said nothing. Instead she turned away from him, letting the proud set of her shoulders answer for her. Thornton knew he had struck a nerve. He decided to push further, stepping fractionally closer to her. "Was the man on the platform the same person who was at your house the day I tried to call?"

Margaret raised her face again at those words, and this time there was unmistakable alarm in her wide eyes and parted lips. Thornton knew his guess was correct. "Never mind," he added, with just a hint of bitterness. "I know you will not tell me."

The line moved just then, and Margaret was relieved to turn her back on Mr. Thornton as she took a step forward. Their conversation was becoming too intense, too personal. She heard him step behind her and sensed his presence very near, close enough to touch. "Margaret," she heard, in a voice just barely above a whisper. It was so soft that she wondered if he had actually murmured her name or if the sound had come from her own active imagination. She could almost feel his breath on her ear. _"Margaret, dearest Margaret. I may be uncouth and hard, but I would never have led you into any falsehood for my sake."_

Margaret stifled a gasp. She did not know how to respond to these words, nor how she could answer if Thornton had, indeed, spoken. Perhaps his passion for her had not died. Perhaps it lay just underneath the surface, a dormant seed, waiting for some unknown touch of nature to bring it forth once again. Her heart leaped to think that, in spite of everything, this stern man might still hold her dear.

Nothing further was said between them until they reached the front of the line. The heavyset matron in front of Margaret stepped up to the counter, leaving a little space between her and Margaret, and Margaret, not as concerned at being overheard, turned to partially face Thornton.

"Mr. Thornton, despite the disagreements between us I would ask you a favor. Since mother's death my father has been quite cast down. He avoids company and has few visitors. Sometimes he goes almost an entire day speaking only to me. You are nearly the only friend he has in Milton. Would it be too much to ask you to consider calling on him as you used to?"

Thornton considered her words, looking down thoughtfully at her upturned face. "I might consider it, if my work schedule permits."

"It would mean a great deal if you could agree to forget what has passed between us, for my father's sake. If you wish I could even arrange to be out of the house when you call."

Thornton shook his head. "That will not be necessary, Miss Hale. I would never impose myself on you if my presence would make you uncomfortable."

"My feelings are not important in this situation, Mr. Thornton. The only thing that matters is lifting my father's spirits."

Thornton's heart warmed at her words. Her selfless attitude was one of the things that he admired so much in this woman. "Your feelings matter to me, Miss Hale, as do those of your father. If you are absolutely certain that my presence would not be a burden to you, I will come to lessons once again."

Margaret smiled gratefully. She had not expected such an easy capitulation.

"Perhaps," Thornton added carefully, "perhaps you might also see fit to join us in our discussions of Greek philosophy from time to time."

Margaret's smile grew wider as her luminous eyes gazed up at him, and Thornton nearly forgot to breathe. "I would like that- very much."

"Then you can expect to see me this evening, Miss Hale, if you will be home."

Margaret gave a nod of assent and faced forward again, leaving Thornton nearly overcome. He could scarcely believe what had just passed between them. Had Margaret really invited him to come to Crampton? Had he just agreed? Who would he be calling on- Margaret's father or on Margaret herself? It might very well be both! He had no idea how to explain the situation even to himself, and he could not imagine what his mother would say when she found out. But he had now given his word, and he would honor it. He would call on the Hale family in their home this very evening! He only wished that it was already nighttime.

The heavyset woman finished her business at the counter and the clerk called Margaret forward. She asked if there were any letters for the Hale family and Thornton noted that she received a thick missive addressed to her and her father in a feminine hand. No doubt it was one of their relatives, perhaps from an overseas location, judging by the exotic postage in one corner. Margaret's face was alight with pleasure as she tucked it into the pocket of her heavy shawl.

Then Thornton saw her remove a letter from her reticule and place it on the counter in front of the clerk. "I would like to post this letter, please. What will the cost be?"

The clerk eyed the address, squinting to make it out. "How far is it going, miss?"

"It is going to Spain."

The clerk picked up the envelope in his hand, peering at it from under thick brows. "Can't hardly read the direction."

"I am sending it to Cadiz," said Margaret patiently. "What postage must be paid?"

"Have to weigh it first." The clerk indicated the scale next to him but did not place the letter on it. He squinted at the writing even more. "We don't get many letters headed for that country through here. What be the name on it?"

"What does it matter?" Margaret answered, now a trifle annoyed. "All I need to know is the postage due."

"If I can't make the name out, then how do you expect them Spaniards to?" Thornton thought the man was making a feeble joke, but Margaret suddenly looked worried instead of amused.

"Please just tell me the amount I must pay," she said, with a quick glance in Thornton's direction. She looked forward again and leaned closer to the counter to say something to the clerk in a hushed voice.

"Begging your pardon, miss," the clerk said more respectfully. "'I meant no disrespect. Let me see how much this weighs."

Margaret did not glance back again as she counted out the amount the clerk named. Without looking at Thornton she turned away from the counter and swept out the door, her skirts trailing grandly behind her. Thornton stared darkly after her, his lip curling in disdain. He knew without being told that Margaret was still protecting the man from the train platform, her lover, the gentleman from Cadiz.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Five**

Margaret found her father where she had left him, sitting on the bench outside the post office, his collar loosened against the warmth of the midday. He was breathing heavily, a trait she had noticed more and more in recent months. "I am sorry to take so long, father. There were a number of others in line ahead of us."

"Was there a letter from Frederick?"

"No, but there is a letter from someone else you know, which may be of some consolation. Cousin Edith wrote."

"Ah!" Mr. Hale paused to cough, clearing his throat. "Imagine young Edith, married and with a child, writing to you all the way from Corfu!"

"And Aunt Shaw might have included a line too, I imagine. You know she is visiting Edith and the captain right now."

"I doubt that your aunt will have much to say to me. She never thought I was good enough for your mother, you know. She may have been right."

This was one of those moments of despondency that Margaret had mentioned to Thornton. It grieved her to hear her father speak of himself this way. She knew that her mother had loved her father deeply, enough to turn her back on a life of luxury in order to become his wife, while Aunt Shaw had accepted a life of security instead of affection. Aunt Shaw had always envied her sister for her choice. But her father blamed himself for his wife's untimely death, and Margaret could not persuade him that more than the dirty Milton air may have contributed to her sad end. It was best to try to distract him.

"Here, father, let me read Edith's letter to you, unless you would rather read it at home."

"I think I will enjoy it more here, in the fresh air. Where is John?" Her father peered behind her. "Did he come out with you?"

"He was directly behind me in line. I expect he will be out shortly." Margaret decided not to mention Thornton's promise to call on her father that night. She did not want to raise his hopes, considering how Thornton had looked daggers at her while she posted her letter to Frederick. Most likely he assumed Margaret was writing to her lover, since she had not had the sense to behave calmly when the clerk called attention to Frederick's assumed name on the envelope. Why did she always have to overreact when Thornton was nearby? Vexed at her own lack of judgment, she broke the seal on her cousin's letter and began to read.

_My very dear Margaret,_

_How strange it is to write to you from this place, so exotic and so far away from everything I hold dear! I think in some ways I may never get used to this island, where the warm air is so unlike England and the sea is so close by. I can hear seagulls calling at our window almost every morning and the smell of salt never leaves the air._

_Mama arrived here almost a month ago and she cannot stop talking about how very modern Corfu is. She expected to find us living among barbarians and heathens, in the most primitive conditions imaginable. Instead everywhere we take her there is some new road being built or some new public work under construction. The talk is all of progress and modernization. We are every bit as civilized in Corfu as we would be in London. As for barbarians and heathens, I had to remind mama that the earliest Christians were Greeks, and we see their ruins and hear their beautiful language spoken all around us every day._

_I have news which will no doubt come as a surprise to you. A fortnight ago the captain asked to extend the length of his posting here, and just yesterday we received word that his request was granted. As a result, my dear Margaret, we will not be returning to England as we had planned. Instead we will all be staying here in Corfu! Even mama, who says that the climate is doing wonders for her ailments. She is already making arrangements through Henry to let the house in town until we can return. The captain says we are not likely to see England again in less than three years._

_Does this news upset you, my dear cousin and almost sister? I hope not. Three years is a tolerable amount of time but as you know, time has a way of passing quickly. I believe that we shall see each other again, and when that happens we shall be amazed at all we have to tell each other._

_Besides, we will not have to be separated at all, not if you and uncle would consent to join us here as well!_

_Dearest Margaret, would it be possible to speak to my uncle and see if he would agree to bring you to visit us on this tiny Greek island? I wish you would. I cannot think of any reason now for you to stay in that dirty manufacturing town, where I am sure the air is not as clean as what we enjoy here. Our quarters are small but we could find accommodations for you easily enough. And if you decide to stay in Corfu, you and I could be as close as we ever were when we were little girls. I would dearly love for Sholto to come to know his Aunt Margaret quite as well as his Uncle Henry._

_Mama will rise shortly and then we will be off for a tour of an old fortress left here by the Venetians many years ago. I will be looking at the ruins, but I will be thinking of the day when you are here to view them with_

_Your own dear cousin,_

_Edith_

"Imagine that, papa!" Margaret exclaimed when she was done. "They are staying in Corfu! I never thought Edith and the captain would go to Corfu and not come back!"

"They say it is very beautiful," said Mr. Hale, wistfully. "All of those warm climates seem to be."

"I wonder if they are learning any Greek. Probably they must be, since they hear so much of it. Do you suppose little Cosmo will speak Greek as well as English by the time they return to London?"

"Perhaps he will. Young children have an ear for language; they learn it much more easily than the rest of us do. How marvelous it must be, to live in the same part of the world where some of the great ancient stories took place! I should love to see where Odysseus washed ashore, driven by the goddess Athena herself!"

"And where he was taken to the Phaecian palace to meet King Alkinoos," Margaret added. "I don't suppose it is possible to know where the palace once stood, but one might guess at its location, if one had the time to explore properly."

"You should go, Margaret," her father said unexpectedly, surprising her. "You should do as your cousin suggests and go to Corfu!"

"What? No, papa; if I were to go abroad anywhere it would be to Spain of course."

"Yes, of course; go to Spain first and then see Corfu."

Margaret patted his hand. "Perhaps one day, papa. Not until you are better."

"My dear, if you wait for me I might never be able to come."

"I do not believe that!" she answered stoutly. "You will regain your strength one day and then you and I will go together to visit Frederick and Dolores. There! Is that not a pleasant thought? That gives you something to look forward to, does it not?"

"I believe it does!" Mr. Hale said, brightening. "Why did I not think of that before? We can go visit Frederick in Spain, even if he can never come here! What a marvelous adventure that will be! I have never been on the continent before. Your mother did not care to travel."

Margaret noted how much the idea of seeing his son again suddenly animated her father. She wished she had thought of this idea earlier. "Promise me we will do this, papa. Once you have lost that little cough that has been troubling you we will book passage to Cadiz!"

"You have my word, Margaret. As soon as my health returns we will go together to see Frederick!" Mr. Hale looked and sounded eager, more like an animated scholar and less like a bereaved husband. His color rose in his cheeks and his eyes took on a new life. Perhaps the prospect of seeing Fredrick was what her dear father had needed all along to console him for his wife's death. As if eager to get started, Mr. Hale rose to his feet.

Thornton finished his business inside the post office and exited the building quickly, looking neither to the left nor to the right. He knew it was ill-mannered of him to walk right by Mr. Hale and his infuriating daughter without saying anything to them, but he did not trust himself to speak rationally just then. Besides, it was clear that they were utterly absorbed in reading the letter Margaret had just retrieved. They did not even lift their heads to see him pass by.

What a fool he had been, to think that Margaret might have softened in her attitude towards him! Just because she had asked him to call on her father, Thornton had, like a blind fool, assumed that the invitation was meant for him! He had enjoyed looking into her fine eyes and imagining that the welcome he saw there was for his sake, that she might be saving her bright smile for him. His mother was right; he had lost all good sense when it came to Margaret Hale.

Well, he would lose it no more. He would call on Mr. Hale this evening as promised but he would pay no attention to Margaret_. No attention to Miss Hale_ he reminded himself. He should not allow himself to call her by her first name even in his mind. He would not listen for the sound of her footsteps approaching the study where he always sat with her father, nor strain to catch glimpses of her through the doorway of the room. And if she did happen to join them for a discussion of Plato, what was that to him? She could participate in the conversation or not, whatever pleased her. Her choices made no difference to his life, not if she preferred the unknown gentleman from Cadiz over him.

He pulled up short as remembrance swept over him. He had promised to call on Anne Latimer tonight! There was another mess he would have to sort out. Not only that, but he had meant to leave the post office and go on to Watson's mill to finalize Fanny's marriage documents. Instead he was so addle brained that he had turned instinctively towards home. _Like a love struck schoolboy_, he fumed to himself. With an annoyed grimace he turned back towards the post office. He was just in time to see Mr. Hale stand, take several steps forward, crumple, and then fall to the ground.

_**The rest of this story is available on Amazon as Margaret of Milton. It was published on April 30th, 2020, and has received a warm reception! Thank you for all your support! I am proud to have written it first here on fanfiction dot net, as I do all my stories, and to make it available to you for free before it was published commercially. :-) Follow me to receive notifications when I start to post my next story, which will take us back to the Darcy and Elizabeth world! Until then, stay well and healthy! -Elaine Owen**_


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